


Arthur felt spoiled in the house outside of St. Denis

by squid1nk



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-27 05:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21113621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squid1nk/pseuds/squid1nk
Summary: Arthur can't sleep, Dutch sees he's awake, yadda yadda yadda. It's just porn.





	Arthur felt spoiled in the house outside of St. Denis

Arthur felt spoiled in the house outside of St. Denis, a roof over his head for once. Well, it was barely a roof, held up by barely a few walls. He could see the tents clearly from the hole in the wall that served as a window - the lights were out, the campfire reduced to embers. As much as he enjoyed the luxury of a building, he missed the camaraderie of camp. Someone was usually awake, or close enough to being awake, that he felt like he had some company. When his insomnia hit, like it did now, it was nice to know he wasn’t completely alone with his thoughts.

He had had a long day, hunting with Charles and learning the lay of the area, but he found himself alert, staring at the ceiling from his cot. Despite his fatigue, his mind would not let his body rest. It kept wandering back to the Pinkertons, Blackwater, hell even Mary. Any ridiculous thing to cause him stress came to him in the middle of the night. So Arthur did what he usually did when this happened - lit a candle, and flipped through his journal. He filled in a sketch from a few days before, adding some texture to the hide of an alligator. It soothed him, and managed to distract him enough that his worrying became a dull buzz in the back of his mind.

Then he heard the creak behind his door. Months of being on the run didn’t allow him to think, he instinctively reached for his knife on the desk beside him. But the door opened before he could grasp it.

“Dutch,” Arthur said, relaxing at the dark form in the doorway. “I can’t say I was expecting visitors at this hour.”

“I saw the candle, didn’t expect you to be awake.” Dutch nodded to the light on the desk. It looked as though he, too, had been awake for a while. Not that anyone else would notice. His clothes were crisp as they always were, his hair neatly slicked back. Only the shadows under his eyes gave it away.

“Well,” said Arthur. “I’d invite you in, but I’m not quite dressed for company.” He was completely naked, of course, a futile attempt to stay cool in the oppresive heat. There was a beat of silence where Arthur didn’t really know what to say. It had been a long time since Dutch had come to him like this. In fact, their previous encounters had usually been a bit more ... spontaneous. A few drinks after a score, a long night on a train. Only a handful of times at camp.

“No,” said Dutch, looking down at him. “I think you’re dressed exactly for company.” He lit a cigar and sat at Arthur’s desk, eyes working over his neck, his shoulders, down his muscled arms and calloused hands. Then he realized the hunger in his stare. Dutch was always so collected that making him come a little undone pleased Arthur.

“I’m afraid I ain’t got much to offer you,” Arthur said. He got up from the cot, and took a long drink of whiskey from a half-empty bottle before handing it to Dutch. The anticipation was exciting him already, but he tried to remain poised as he leaned against the desk next to Dutch. They were so close he could feel the heat coming off the other man’s body. Dutch’s hand moved to his leg, his warm rings pressing against the soft skin of his inner thigh. Arthur felt his breath begin to quicken, and his cock stiffen. It was so easy for him, wasn’t it? Just a touch, a strong glance, and Arthur was his.

“You look a bit tense,” Dutch said, his voice low and soft. “Show me how you get yourself to relax.”

Arthur took the bottle of whiskey, drank, and handed it back to Dutch. He held his gaze, and his hand drifted to his cock, already stiffened. He began to stroke himself, slowly, wanting to savor the look in Dutch’s eyes as he grew harder. He wondered how long it would be until he gave in, and starting touching him himself. 

He didn’t have to wonder long. In a matter of moments, Dutch stood and moved between Arthur’s legs. He gripped the back of his neck, and kissed him roughly. It was the kind of careless kiss that was desperate to feel him, or devour him. Arthur curled his arms around his shoulders, and pushed into his body, trying to feel every inch of him. His tongue tasted like the whiskey, and Arthur stupidly wondered if it was the lust or the drink that was more intoxicating. 

Dutch pulled back enough to unbutton his pants, loosing his cock from the fabric. Arthur slipped off the desk and took him into his mouth. He loved the way he felt, his soft skin, the weight of him against his tongue. Dutch rested his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, and let out a deep sigh as Arthur sucked him. His hands worked along his shaft as he tongued his head. Dutch stilled him by grabbing the back of his neck almost painfully, and fucking his mouth. Arthur relaxed his jaw and let him - he liked being used as nothing more than a tool. 

His breath was ragged as he stepped back, removing himself from Arthur’s mouth. He took another sip of whiskey, and waited for Dutch to compose himself enough to tell him what to do. 

“Turn around,” Dutch commanded, and pushed him down into the desk. Arthur’s face pressed against the wood, his right arm pinned against his back. He smiled, and spread his legs, waiting. He heard a tin open, and felt Dutch’s slicked fingers against his entrance. One slipped inside him, then another, slowly readying him. Arthur tried to steady his breathing, relaxing himself open, and trying to enjoy the sensations behind him. But he grew impatient. Dutch always liked to take drag it out, make Arthur ask for it. As much as he enjoyed allowing him that power, Arthur just wanted to be fucked hard enough to stop thinking the rest of the night. He pressed against Dutch’s hand, forcing him deeper.

“Hurry up and fuck me already,” he said. His voice was hoarse.

“Don’t beg, Arthur, it’s not becoming,” Dutch responded, slowing his ministrations. Arthur heard the smile in his voice, and knew begging was exactly what Dutch wanted. Dutch pushed his fingers roughly inside him, making Arthur jolt. “Besides, I don’t think you’ve earned it yet.” Arthur started to stand up, but Dutch forced him back down, his hand still twisting Arthur’s arm into his back. Arthur moved his free hand to reach down for his cock, but Dutch stopped him, slamming his wrist back onto the desk with his free hand. He rings cut into his skin, and Arthur dimly wondered if he was going to have bruising in the morning. 

“I ain’t got all night, Dutch.” Arthur was torn between genuine annoyance and enjoying the game.

“Really? What great plans was I interrupting?” Dutch leaned down and growled into his ear, his voice laughing. He bit his neck as he writhed beneath him. Arthur was stronger than him, he was sure of it, he could push him off without much issue. But as much as he liked complaining, he liked the idea of Dutch overpowering him more. 

Then, finally, Dutch released a grip, and pushed his cock into him. Arthur realized his breath, pleased to get what he wanted. He heard Dutch’s soft grunts as he fucked him with strong, steady movements. Arthur bit his lip to hold back a whimper, and adjusted his stance to take him deeper. Well, as much as he could with Dutch’s hand holding him against the desk. He felt helpless, like his only purpose that night was for Dutch to make himself come inside him. And he relished it. 

Arthur wished he could see Dutch’s face, how his jaw was tensed, how his shirt clung to him from sweat. He wanted to see his expression as he neared his climax. As he fantasized about the man behind him, he became aware of the stiffness of his own cock, almost painfully pressed against the desk. His eyes watered, as Dutch began moving faster, more haphazardly against him. He felt his his whole body stiffen, and Arthur squeezed around Dutch’s cock as it rubbed inside him. The sensations were almost dizzying.

A groan wrenched out of Dutch as he came. Arthur felt heat spread inside him, and he grinned. He loved the feeling of fullness, and stayed there, enjoying the sudden calm. Arthur felt Dutch’s body relax into him, and they stayed there for a moment. Then he pulled out of him, and come dripped down Arthur’s leg. He liked the filth of it, he liked being marked at his. 

Arthur stood and turned, rolling back his shoulders against their sudden release. Dutch had tucked already himself away, and tossed Arthur a handkerchief. He was pushing his hair back now, fixing a strayed lock. Dutch was back to composed, the only thing indicating the moments before was a flush across his cheeks.

“Now what?” Arthur said stupidly. He was still hard, naked, bare. He didn’t know what else to do, what else Dutch wanted from him. 

“I want you to finish what I started.” Dutch lit a cigar, sat on his cot, and waited.

Arthur sunk into his chair, and let his legs relax. He knew he would come in moments of touching himself, but he wanted to give Dutch a proper show. He drank from the whiskey bottle, feeling his gaze on his throat as he swallowed.

Arthur moved his own hand against his cock. He kept his eyes open, locked on Dutch. He thought about how he felt inside of him only a few moments before. He thought of the first time they fucked, coming to his tent in the dead of night, offering himself silently. Dutch telling him exactly what he wanted him to do. Dutch didn’t have to tell him anymore, he knew what he liked. He liked to be the director, always watching, always in control. 

So he gave him what he wanted. He slicked his hands, and worked his cock. He let low groans escape his throat as pulled at himself, his grip almost painful. He wished Dutch were touching him instead, but that part of the evning was over. He sank into his pleasure and let himself go, finishing over his hands. Arthur panted, and let his body relax. He knew Dutch enjoyed the picture of him, spent, sweaty, come still leaking out of him. He let him savor it.

Dutch finished his cigar, stood, and squeezed Arthur’s shoulder as he moved to the door. In a moment of unprecedented tenderness, Arthur pulled Dutch’s hand to his mouth and kissed his palm. Dutch let his hand linger against his cheek, his expression soft.

“Goodnight, Arthur.” 

He left, gently shutting the door behind him.

Arthur slept exceptionally well the rest of the night.


End file.
